


The Assistant

by Daytripper



Category: Social Network (2010) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-31
Updated: 2012-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daytripper/pseuds/Daytripper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I guess I just need some work, and you look like you could use an assistant.”<br/>“And if I like you enough I’ll hire you permanently?” Jesse guesses.<br/>The guy nods.<br/>With eyebrows raised, Jesse looks at the "New Releases" section, only half filled with DVDs, then over at the heavy, unpacked boxes.  Emma and Hallie could only pick up the slack he was doomed to make for so long.<br/>He slides open a nearby drawer, then pulls out a clean application paper.  Handing it over to—(“What’s your name?” “Andrew.” “Ah.”)—to Andrew, Jesse points to the bottom and mumbles, “Fill it out.  Sign here.”  The smile he gets in return makes Jesse look away, and he resorts to reading the back of his pain killers while Andrew scrawls his information onto the paperwork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Assistant

**Author's Note:**

> I've just started getting into the whole Jewnicorn shipping, so if something seems horribly off or the characterization is complete shit, let me know :3 I'm going off the few things I know about these guys and trying to write them as full-blown people. Not as easy as I'd hoped.  
> Loosely based on "The Assistant" by Bernard Malamud.
> 
> Warning: Heavy abuse of italics.

 

Jesse thinks that there's this... _thing_ inside everyone.  It drives them to want to live somebody else's life--anybody’s but their own, no matter how good it seems.  Whether they want to get away from the horrors of their pathetic existence or just experience something new, the appeal of escaping reality, even if only for a few hours, is what brought Jesse to his current employment.

Jesse lives his life surrounded by alternate realities, in a sense.  He keeps shelves upon shelves stocked with different stories, some similar to and others drastically different than his own.  Whole worlds can be captured in a two-hour long time slot, then engraved on a thin piece of plastic and shipped out all over the world.

A movie can bring the strongest man to tears ( _"Marley and Me"_ ), make a child imagine a future they'll never see ( _"Avatar"_ ),  or bring a family together around the holidays ( _"A Christmas Story,"_ Jesse remembers fondly).

And maybe he does sometimes get a little high off the thought that he can manipulate someone's emotions with just a suggestion.  ( _You haven't seen "The Green Mile?"_ )  Only half of the things he suggests he even enjoys, but he knows his clientele will eat it right up.

And that's all business owner can ask for, right?

* * *

Jesse's glaring at the customers again, but this time he catches himself and quickly looks away.  It’s like Schindler’s List carries some sort of deadly disease.  Or, more than likely, people just don’t appreciate the classics anymore.  Even Jesse can enjoy the occasional 'man-film,' as he's so cleverly pegged it, or even a chick flick.  Unfortunately for the general population, the section Jesse has labeled "Classics" usually goes untouched, sometimes even avoided like the plague, in spite of his best urges.

And that's the reason Jesse has finally scaled a ladder to place the new copies of "Paul Blart: Mall Cop" on the top shelf in the "New Releases" section.

Really, the movie’s over two years old, but Jesse had resiliently kept it out of stock, along with hundreds of other pointless comedies, until recently.  Whenever he tries to help educate people by promoting movies that actually stimulate the brain, he always winds up out more money than he put in, which doesn't help in the grand scheme of things.  In order to educate, he needs to keep the shelves loaded with garbage.  It's a real catch-22, as far as Jesse is concerned, but it keeps food on the table.

A digital bell dings, making Jesse startle, jerking and swaying on the ladder.  Whoever just entered is now laughing at him, and Jesse turns his upper body to scowl at his sister.

"Hallie, it's definitely not polite to scare people when they're on ladders."

"You're not even four rungs up, Jesse."

"I've been known to get injured from shorter heights than this."

Hallie lets that go, quickly walking behind the counter and banging her first on the side of the cash register until it creaks open.

"Hey!  That costs money to fix, you know!"

She rolls her eyes.  "Yeah, _my_ money," she says, placing a few crumpled bills into their respective sections in the register.

"I thought you didn't get paid until the end of the month," Jesse says, moving on to placing copies of "Jackass 3D" against the bright purple shelving.

"I asked for an advance on my next paycheck, Jesse, I told you," Hallie walks over and looks up at Jesse, "Maybe if you weren't splurging on so many new movies I wouldn't have to.”

Jesse grimaces, "This is what people want to rent," he murmurs, momentarily agitated with the whole human race.

"Well fine, but you'd better cut it out, or I'm gonna cut you off."

Hitting his head against the metal rung in front of him, Jesse reaches out blindly, placing a hand on his sister’s head.

"Please.  Don't.  I'm sorry.  I'll stop."

"Gee, don't sound so sincere about it, Jess,"  she says, stepping away from him.  The bell rings again, and Hallie quickly rushes to the front counter to pretend like she knows what's she's doing.

Jesse only watches for a split second as a pair of kids walk in, then he goes back to his meticulous sorting.

He's almost made it to the S's when there's a shout from a few aisles away.  Jesse glances down just in time to see someone go running, or maybe he's pushed, or maybe he trips, right into the base of the ladder Jesse’s on.

The ladder tilts, squeaks, and Jesse's reflexes nearly betray him.  His hands quickly clamp down on the nearest display shelf, but the faulty screws give way and the wood snaps out of place and Jesse pictures himself falling backwards, although he’s pretty sure his eyes are closed.

His back hits the dirty, carpeted ground, Jesse’s neck snapping backwards and crashing into the lowest shelf of the "Romantic Comedies" section.  Jesse’s always hated that section.

For a few minutes his vision is blurry, and Hallie is above him chanting “don’t move, don’t move,” over and over.  Jesse doesn’t need to be told twice.

Jesse closes his eyes for a minute and when he opens them, blonde hair is spilling onto his face and making him cough.

“Dammit, sorry,” Emma says, quickly restraining her hair with a ponytail holder.

Nodding distractedly, Jesse grips the edge of a shelf and pulls himself into something close to a sitting position.

“I- That- Ow.” Jesse says, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck.  He flinches and jerks a bit when the pressure sends a sharp pain through his shoulders.

“Help me get him up,” Hallie murmurs, sliding her arm underneath Jesse’s.  Emma follows her lead and on the count of three, they pull him to his feet.

Jesse blinks several times, trying to relieve the pressure pushing in on his eyes.  It doesn’t do much.  When he glances over his shoulder at the fallen ladder, another crick in his neck makes him flinch, and he slowly, _slowly_ brings his head back, glaring at Hallie.

“Where’d the kids go?” He asked, with no real cruel intentions behind the words.

“Ran out after they saw you sprawled on the floor,” she says.  “So I called Emma and she drove over.”

Jesse realizes he was unconscious or unaware or whatever for longer than he’d thought.  “Well  thanks, I think.”

Placing a hand on the back of his neck _ouch_ , Emma looks into his eyes, her brow furrowed curiously.  “Well, I’m no doctor, but I take his twitchy eyes as a good sign.  He’s normally like this, right?”

Hallie huffs and nods, deep in thought.  “Can you, like, walk?” She asks him.  “I don’t think either of us can afford a trip to the E.R.”

“Glad my personal well-being ranks below your money issues,” Jesse says, but he knows she’s right.  He takes a hesitant step forward, the two girls quickly jumping back to get out of his way in case he falls again, Jesse figures.  The pain comes out of him in a sigh, and he shakes his head, but takes another step.  “I can walk,” he half-lies.

Hallie’s pursing her lips, unimpressed.  “You’re the worst, Jesse.  C’mon, you need to sit down or something.”  Before Jesse can react, he’s being half-dragged, half-carried to the employee office and lowered into the moth-eaten recliner that resides there.

“Hallie Kate,” Jesse whines, “I don’t have time for this.  I have a business to run, and deliveries to pick up--”

“Deliveries?”

“Yes, deliveries that I ordered five business days ago, with my own money.  Don’t start with me.”

Shaking her head, Hallie looks at Emma, “You done shooting today?” She asks, which Jesse thinks is unnecessary, considering Emma is here and obviously done filming her stupid  commercial.

But Emma nods and the two of them stride back out into the store, discussing who will be managing the place for the next week and when their schedules clash and “well Jesse certainly can’t do it for at least the rest of the day.”

“I’m right here, you know!  And perfectly capable of running my own business,” Jesse shouts, but his plea goes ignored.  He hates it when Hallie Kate plays doctor like this.

With a loud, exaggerated groan, Jesse lets himself fall back into the recliner, only to find that it feels like somebody’s punched him in the back of the head.

* * *

It’s been almost two days since “Jesse’s Fall,” which has become such a common topic of discussion that Jesse has officially capitalized it in his mind, as he does with anything of great importance.  He’s been on his feet and feeling mostly good for about 46 of those 48 hours, but Emma and Hallie Kate are still sharing shifts, refusing to let him do any real work.

Today, though, he’s been given the distinct honor of walking down to the post office to pick up his packages, and even walking back all by himself.  The catch there is that Jesse knows how many movies he’s ordered, and is actually kind of unsure if he’ll be able to do it at all.  Just bending over to slip on his shoes is a daunting task.  But anything is better than sitting on a stool behind Hallie while she flirts with the younger customers.

Jesse walks inside the post office, then waits in line for about fifteen minutes before he recites his name to the clerk.  He’s led back to where they store the larger packages, and after the clerk walks back to her post at the front desk, Jesse looks at the boxes with a critical eye.

There’s three of them, a problem all in its own, and they’re all significantly bigger than a breadbox.  Probably about three or four breadboxes, actually.

Biting his lip, Jesse leans over _ouch,_ tightly grips one of the boxes _dammit,_ and hoists it up on his shoulder _fuck!!_  The box thumps onto the tiled flooring, causing Jesse to curse while simultaneously arching his shoulders and clenching his fists to try and relieve some of the throbbing pain in his upper body.

He must look strange, because when a stranger approaches him with a hesitant “hello,” Jesse quickly rights himself, as if he’s a normal, functioning member of society.

“Uh, hi,” Jesse responds lamely, staring at the man.

“Do you need any help there?” He asks, this time with an accent Jesse hadn’t heard at first.

“I, uhm-” Jesse doesn’t accept help from strangers.  “Yeah, that’d be nice.”  Or maybe he does.  He blames the endorphins.

Nodding, the man leans down and, with a bit of a struggle, manages to get two of the boxes in his arms.  “Right then,” he says happily, wide smile, white teeth, crinkled eyes, _stop it._

“Right then,” Jesse repeats, thankfully minus the accent.  Looking back down at the box, he braces himself and leans down to pick it up.  This time he’s a little more successful, managing to get it into his arms with very little fuss.  His back is yelling at him to _please put the damned box down,_ but the other guy is already walking out, chatting Jesse up about the weather or something else he can’t make out over his pain.

“So, where exactly are we taking these?” Andrew asks after they’ve walked three blocks.

“Oh, uh, my rental store—they’re DVDs.  Hopefully they’re DVDs, that is.”

Mystery man actually chuckles at that, which Jesse finds endearing and a bit demented, because it was really the farthest thing from funny that he’s said all day.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” The guy asks, a look in his eyes that convinces Jesse he might actually care whether he’s in pain or not.  He must have noticed the limp in Jesse’s stride that he’s trying to hide, or the constant spasms of pain racking his body whenever he trips over the uneven cement.

“Yeah, fine.  Just had a little fall.  I’m better now.”

The man grunts, as if he understands the pain keeping Jesse up at night, enabling him basically useless in the realm of physical labor.

Jesse jerks his head to the right _bad decision,_ and declares “This is it,” before leading what’s-his-name into the store and setting his box on the counter with a relieved sigh.  He lets his muscles have a rest, then quickly walks behind the cash register to find his bottle of pain killers.

“Thanks for the help, by the way.  You can have a coupon for a free movie rental if you want,” Jesse offers, screwing the lid of the aspirin back on and grimacing as he swallows a pill.  “I’ll have to write it on a Post-It note or something, but still.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I was kind of hoping for something else,” he suggests, pausing hesitantly between each word.  Jesse glances up at him, eyebrow raised.

“Well, since you’re injured,” he starts, making Jesse glance down at himself, “Maybe I could work here part time—for free!—for a while, that is, until you’re up and at it again.”

So that’s why he cared about how Jesse was feeling.

Jesse licks his lips in thought, tapping his foot repeatedly against the floor.  “What’s the catch?” He asks.  “I don’t know if you noticed, but business isn't exactly booming.”

The man flushes, shrugging his shoulders in a defeated way.  “I guess I just need some work, and you look like you could use an assistant.”

“And if I like you enough I’ll hire you permanently?” Jesse guesses.

The guy nods.

With eyebrows raised, Jesse looks at the "New Releases" section, only half filled with DVDs, then over at the heavy, unpacked boxes. Emma and Hallie could only pick up the slack he was doomed to make for so long.

He slides open a nearby drawer, then pulls out a clean application paper.  Handing it over to—( _“What’s your name?” “Andrew.” “Ah.”_ )—to Andrew, Jesse points to the bottom and mumbles, “Fill it out.  Sign here.”  The smile he gets in return makes Jesse look away, and he resorts to reading the back of his pain killers while Andrew fills out the paperwork.


End file.
